The stars have lost a battle with the moon,
They shriek with disdain.
"We are in millions", they boast as they conspire
The moon unaware of it peeks through lover's windows
It has been with them blessing their barren hearts.
The stars cast a dreamy spell blinding people's gaze.
But the moon, it keeps people awake
It finds itself in a poet's unsung verse
Or in the lover's blotted ink stained letters.
The night seems awake in its silvery touch
Yet the stars, look how they detest it's gleam!
Their envy causing them to blink
But does the moon care enough!
It has seen stories being born, it has bore the pain of loses
But it kept it's gleam alive.
For he knew, it healed bruised hearts
He knew what he meant to the world
He kept his gleam alive as the stars blinked and cursed!
I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could
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